“He's right, babe,” Sarah agreed, grabbing Steve’s hand. “Let him cool off tonight and talk to him tomorrow...Besides, we all want to hear the guesthouse story again.”
“Yah, please, please!” Jenny added.
Part of Steve agreed that Alex just needed space- the other part wanted to go running after his cousin and slap some sense into him. Like every other family, Steve’s was filled with minor squabbles and petty arguments. To Steve this felt like one of those, but maybe Alex felt differently.
“Okay,” Steve said, putting on a fake smile as he returned to his seat. “Are you sure you wanna hear it again, Jenny? Don't come running to me if you have more nightmares.”
Jenny nodded her head in excitement. Wide-eyed, she did her best to wait patiently, but the anticipation was killing her.
Before he began the story, Steve removed the rifle from his back and set it against the table.
“Alright. So there I was, in full sprint to the guesthouse. Chaos all around me…”
“No, Steve! Not there!” interrupted a demanding Jenny. “Skip to the bathroom!”
Steve couldn't help but smile at the childlike innocence Jenny projected.
“Hey, who's telling this story?” he joked. “But okay, fine, we’ll do it your way. So, there I was, back pressed up against the guesthouse bathroom door. On the other side were at least a half-dozen hungry mouths, each banging as hard as they could to get inside. We were trapped. Well, at least I was. The bathroom was crazy small and our only way out, well Jenny's only way out, was through the window…”
“That's me!” exclaimed Jenny. She was excited to hear her role in Steve's story.
Jenny’s tiny outburst was enough to get curious stares from those seated at the other tables. One by one, the others came over and listened to the story.
For the sake of the newcomers, Steve repeated the first part, and then continued.
“And if anyone is cool under pressure, it's this girl,” Steve said, making Jenny blush. “Anyway, as much as Jenny protested, as much as she was reluctant to leave, I finally convinced her I'd be right behind her. But there was no way I was going to fit- at all. Sorry for lying, Jenny. I would have maybe made it to the window by the time they broke in. I just had to say whatever I could to get her to safety. So, as I watched Jenny slip out of the window, I sat there honestly thinking the worst, thinking I was done. I scanned the entire bathroom, I can't even tell you how many times, hoping I missed something, praying I did. But there was nothing...”
Steve paused for a moment. Everyone had now circled around him, and his story was stimulating gasps and nervous faces. He didn't mean for the pause to set the stage for the climax or to make room for some sort of dramatic timing. He stopped because of his cousin, Alex. Steve knew that Alex saved his life- not physically, but he knew his cousin's spirit was with him that crazy day.
Years before, Alex had introduced Steve to the movie, The Rock, and the two had watched it a thousand times. Both could almost recite the entire movie line for line. Alex had mastered Sean Connery's accent, and Steve, Nicolas Cage's. The thought of better, happier times made Steve want to make amends even more.
“...Then the bangs and thumps grew louder and harder. The wooden door would be off its hinges in seconds, and right behind it, a gang of infected. I thought about saying screw it and just taking as many of them with me as I could, but then I had a crazy idea and went with it. I took out my last grenade, pulled the pin and set it just in front of the door line. I jumped into the tub, pulled the curtain back, curled up into a ball and closed my eyes. Instantly, the door flew open, and infected poured in. I'm sure they didn't see me at first, but they knew I was there. I swear it felt like an eternity. I almost thought the grenade was a dud, in which case, end of the line for yours truly. Then out of nowhere...BOOM!” Steve animated the explosion with his arms, and the crowd jumped back in surprise.
“It was probably a combination of the bodies and the porcelain tub that stopped the fragments from killing me. Not to mention the curtain from showering me with all that blood and guts. But after it went off, I knew I had to get my ass in gear, so I got up and bailed like a bat outta hell. And the rest, well you guys have heard that,” Steve said, finishing his story.
A flurry of cheers and claps overtook the picnic area. Some applauded the riveting storytelling, some for the dramatic feat, others still baffled by Steve’s creative escape.
As she joined in the celebration, Sarah leaned in and whispered, “You forgot the best part.”
“What do you mean,” asked Steve, confused.
“When you saved me from Shannon. Otherwise it would have been the end of the line foryours truly.”
“And I wouldn't have you,” he said leaning in for a romantic kiss.
“Well, kind of. You don't think you got me by your charm and good looks alone do you?” she joked, accepting the kiss.
But their moment and the cheerful tone of a peaceful night was ruined by the sounds of nearby gunfire.
“Everyone, follow me. Let's get inside the station!” Collin ordered, waving everyone over. Moving with a sense of urgency, the crowd followed without hesitation.
Steve snatched up his rifle, checked the chamber for a round and stayed behind. Nick un-holstered his sidearm and racked the slide. Out of nowhere, Alex arrived, also ready for battle.
Last, Travis appeared with a shotgun raised over his head, forcing his way through the opposing crowd.
“You guys waiting for an invitation? Let's go!” he said, squeezing through the crowd.
Sporadic gunfire continued as the four men hurried over to the main gate. When they arrived, they weren't sure why the gunshots had ceased, because the action was far from over. A half-dozen bodies were smashed against the gate, clawing and snapping their jaws.
“Ryan, what happened?” Nick asked to his former deputy who was climbing down from the scouts perch above. “And where's Gregg?”
But Alex, Steve, and Travis didn't wait for an explanation. The three of them unloaded their weapons. One by one, heads blew back or exploded like watermelons, until the disturbing moans and groans ceased; until the fence shook no more.
With a step to go, the twenty-one year old Ranger leapt to the ground, boots stirring up a pocket of dust.
“Oh man. I'm so sorry, Ranger Nick. I totally eff'd this up,” Ryan said, scrambling to pick up a rifle. Clumsily, he ended up kicking it further away. “I saw the infected coming and called it out like you told me to do. I even got off a couple rounds, but then I accidentally kicked my flashlight off the perch. I don't know why, but I tried to grab it, and I dropped my rifle, too-”
“I got Gregg here, Nick,” Travis relayed, shinning his flashlight near the hood of the school bus. “I think he's out cold. Never mind, he's waking up.”
“Ya, I heard him slip and fall. It sounded like he crashed pretty hard on the hood,” Ryan said. His nonverbals showcased complete disappointment in the presence of his boss. “I know we messed up.”
“Talk about dream team,” Alex said, using a flashlight to inspect the freshly dispatched infected. He always made sure there were no surprises. “Fucking idiots.”
Travis dropped to a knee next to Gregg Hanson, whose face was pressed against the dirt. The partially bald, forty-three year old was slowly coming back to reality.
“How you doing there, sunshine?” Travis said, helping Gregg rest against the wheel of the bus.
“Wha-what happened?” Gregg asked.
“Don't know, wasn't here. But I can tell you, you're going to feel like shit tomorrow,” Travis replied, examining the fresh bruise on Gregg's head.
“What did I tell you about mistakes?” Nick said, patting Ryan on the back.
Ryan quoted Nick’s maxim. “That you can't dwell on them.”
“Exactly. Now Ryan, go take Gregg to medical and have the Doc or Sarah check his head out.”
“Oh, alright,” Ryan answered, trying to regain his composure.
“Steve,” Nick continued, “I want you up on the bus covering us. And please, watch your step.”
With a slight smirk on his face, Steve complied, moving up the vehicle with the speed and grace of a cat. When he was in position, he scanned the perimeter with a flashlight and called down. “All clear from up here, Nick. What's the plan?”
Nick stepped toward the main gate.
The scene was gory and straight out of a horror movie. Bodies lay contorted on the cold dirt, forming a grotesque dog-pile of body parts. But by far, the most unsettling visual was a pair of hands still grasping onto the fence.
The old park Ranger had seen more than his share of death, but it never made it easier on him, just more calloused to it. “Alex, Travis. You're with me. Let's suit up and move these bodies. We will wait until the morning to burn them. I don't want to send up a beacon for any others in the area.”
Just like that, a quiet evening in Providence had turned into a skirmish. That was the way life worked now. Some days were good, most were bad.
Chapter 3
Downtown Quebec City, Quebec
November 24, 2008 (one year ago)
2021 hours
Nasir Abil Mohhades was dressed in a dark-black, Jon Green-tailored suit. The custom design was complemented with a silk, lavender tie resting above a long sleeve, white collared shirt, both bearing the same logo as the suit.
Nasir’s clean cut features were only rivaled by the 18-carat, white gold, Omega watch, fasted on his left wrist. The people who were familiar with those brands would guess that Nasir was middle-eastern royalty, perhaps a prince. But in reality, Nasir just happened to be a very successful businessman. And for all the lavish and expensive things he possessed, Nasir maintained a compassionate, philanthropic way of life, giving away millions over the years.
After the last bite of a white chocolate soufflé, Nasir used the silk napkin resting on his lap to dab his lips. The five star restaurant, Chateau Pierre L'Efbon, specialized in this decadent dessert.
“Merci beaucoup,” said the Persian man, with a flawless accent. He continued speaking in French saying, “The meal was excellent, as always. My regards to Pierre, please.”
“Of course,” the French waitress replied, taking away the finished dish. “Anything else I can get for you, Mr. Mohhades?”
“No, that will be all, Nathalie,” replied Nasir politely. He handed her a credit card, and then finished the meal with swallow of red wine.
In less than a minute, Nathalie returned and thanked Nasir again for his patronage.
“Have a safe flight back home to Paris and please tell your family hello for me,” Nathalie said in Persian. She had been practicing for the last six months for this exact opportunity.
“Ahhh, very good,” replied Nasir, pleasantly surprised. The French-Canadian's extra-step prompted Nasir to include an even more gracious tip to the $425 bill for a dinner for one. “And I will. Ladan has been asking me when we will be back. Unfortunately for her, this time was strictly business.”
Nasir loved this restaurant, and every time he visited Quebec, he dined here- at least once. On his way out, Nasir said goodbye to the rest of the staff.
The doorman quickly opened the door and asked, “Would you like a taxi, sir?”
“No, thank you,” answered Nasir as he looked up into the cloudless nighttime sky. “My hotel is only a few blocks away. It's far too beautiful of a night to waste away in a cab.”
As Nasir strolled down the sidewalk, the heels on his black Italian leather shoes clicked with each step. Three blocks from the restaurant, the Persian man stopped. Down a dimly lit alley to his right, Nasir peered through the darkness with squinted eyes.
What was that?he thought, unable to see anything.Oh well...
Just as he was about to carry on, Nasir heard it again.
This time the cry for help was discernible, albeit weak, but nevertheless distinct and direct- and feminine. Whoever it was needed help.
Against his better judgment, Nasir turned and walked down the alley. He would want the same thing if his own wife or daughters were in trouble.
“Hello!” he called out multiple times, but received no answer.
Fifty nervous steps into the alley, Nasir saw movement behind a dumpster. A pair of legs rolled around on the slick pavement.
“Miss, are you hurt?” Nasir asked, shuffling his feet over to the woman's position. “What's wrong? Are you hurt?”
Lying on her back with her hands covering her face, the woman ignored the questions and continued to whimper.
Nasir dropped to a squat next to her and visually inspected her body for any injuries.
The woman was dressed in punk-rock attire- torn black jeans held up by a studded belt. Her graphic T-shirt hung loose, exposing her bra.
“Miss, please talk to me, otherwise I cannot help you. Do you need an ambulance?”
Suddenly, the woman's quiet whimpering turned into a disturbing laugh, that grew louder and louder.
“Ambulance, ambulance, ambulance,” she said rhythmically from behind her hands. Suddenly, she opened her hands in a “peek-a-boo” type fashion and said, “I don't need one, but I think you will.”
As Nasir stood up, so did the hairs on the back of his neck.
“I'm sorry,” he said, backpedalling nervously. “I should get going. Good night.”
On his way back to the safety of the main street, Nasir was intercepted by a pair of rough-looking men. Both were dressed in jeans and black hooded sweatshirts.
“So soon?” one of them asked.
Nasir turned to try his luck in the other direction, but three more men sprouted from the shadows. The Persian’s eyes widened and his throat dried.
“Yeah, the fun is just about to start,” the woman said, pacing over.
2045 hours
“You're lucky they didn't kill you,” said a police officer. “At least lucky that man over there heard you call out for help...”
But Nasir Mohhades said nothing, instead he winced in pain as he laid back on an ambulance gurney. His face was bloodied and bruised, but not broken. Unfortunately, two of his ribs did not share the same fortune. A flurry of cuts and scrapes covered his body in the spots where his $25,000 suit was ripped and torn. His masterfully crafted shoes were scuffed beyond repair. Everything else had been stolen from him in a textbook robbery-assault. His watch, wallet, and wedding ring had all been taken with ease.
“...So just to confirm your statement,” the police officer continued, “You said it was one woman and five men? And you didn't really get a good look at them?”
“Yes- too dark,” Nasir managed to say. Although he immediately grabbed for the pair of cracked ribs.
“Is there anything else youneed?” A caring paramedic interrupted, emphasizing the last word. A silver name badge reading François was pinned to the paramedic’s chest. “This man needs medical attention. So if you have all you need, please allow me to do my job.”
“Fine,” the salty officer replied. “Mr. Mohhades, if you remember anything else, here is the number to our investigations division. When you’re ready, an officer will drive you to your hotel. Good night, sir.”
The officer walked over to take an official statement from the good Samaritan who phoned the police.
“Idiot cops,” François said under his breath. “Obviously, it is not a good night.”
Nasir appreciated the sincere sentiment. Instead of words, he managed a partial smile.
“Mr. Mohhades, I was able to clean up and care for all the wounds, but you do have at least two cracked ribs. Broken ribs are one thing, but cracked aren’t life threatening. Still, I would like to take you to the hospital-”
“No hospitals,” he said, one hand he grabbing his ribs and the other waving off the medic's recommendation. “I’ll be fine.”
“Sir, please,” the dark-skinned paramedic insisted, but to no avail. “Fine, as you wish. Note, the victim is declining to be taken to a hospital,” Fran�
�ois said, so the recording device in his front pocket could capture it. He checked a series of boxes on the medical forms and asked Nasir to sign and initial for insurance purposes.
Nasir used the blue ink pen and signed the lines as requested. He handed back the clipboard with the completed forms.
“One last thing, sir, and please hear me out,” François said, adjusting his large, horn-rimmed glasses. “The back alleys of downtown Quebec aren't exactly known for their cleanliness, trust me. And I'm guessing the dumpster they found you next to wasn't sparkling clean either. You declined going to the hospital which is fine, but I would recommend allowing me to give you a broad-spectrum antibiotic, just as a precaution. I have seen some bad diseases come from places like this...”
Nasir began to shake his head no, but François persisted.
“...You say you don't want to go to a hospital, understandable. I don't even like hospitals. That is why I work in the field,” he said, gaining some rapport. “But if something got into your system already, then I can assure you, you're going to end up in a hospital anyway and not by choice, and most likely not in the best of health. At least this way, you have a chance to avoid it.”
The argument was convincing and Nasir finally agreed.
In a matter of seconds, François returned with a syringe filled with a clear liquid. The medic found a suitable vein on Nasir's less injured arm and injected the contents.
“Like I said, it's a broad-spectrum antibiotic,” François said, retracting the needle. The paramedic applied one last bandage. “That does it, sir. I believe that police officer will be giving you a ride back to your hotel. Remember, try to rest as much as possible and be sure to change your dressings tomorrow.”
Nasir shook the kind paramedic's hand and thanked him. Then, he limped over to the patrol vehicle.
2220 hours
The Longest Road (Book 2): The Change Page 10